Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1887-03-20
THE DAVIS FAMILY.
SOME GLrMPsgs OF HONE LIFE AT
BEAUV0IR.
The House and Its Furnishiags-nrs'
Davis-Miss Winnie and Her
Little Friend.

| Beauvoir, Miss, lying four mueS ne
yond Mississippi City, is ilag-station
on the Louisville and Nashville road.
AS thetrains pass travellers lean from the
car-windows and regard with curious In
terest the thickets and tangle OF trees
that hide from view the peaceful home
OF one OF the most famous living men IN
the world. Oftentimes the tourists
stop over for a few hours and pay
visit to the master of Beauvoir house
trayersing the cool, dark paths OF the
forest; treading the wide halls and
ample rooms of the rambling, hosplta-
bic home, and winning from the little
family a greeting so kindly ana 50
courteous that perforce the intruders
feel they did well to come.
Early one morning of last week the
little maiden Flo and | and the inevita-
bic doll, Albertha." found ourselves
standing on the dingy platform that
forms a wide, gray margin about the
pine planked, Imprinted station-house
of Beauvoir, and which IS like nothing
so much as like thousand other way
side station-houses peppered all over
the South. All about were the free and
omen forests Of pine-forever green,
forever sweet-scented, forever signing,
moaning, and whispering. with voice
that is like the echo of the voice OF the
sea. A heavy sandy road sauntered by
devious turns off under the trees
great orchard of scuppernong vines lay
to the left, and a gray fence, that pro-
tested with wooden obstinacy against
encroachment, was twisted with black
berry vines, now all white with bloom.
The pine lands are very sweet and
howery at this time of the year. There
are wild white and blue violets and but
tercups, and clumps of azaleas, covered
with delicate shell-pink bloom, aud
here and there the dogwood blossoms,
like drifts Of low-lying white clouds.
A quarter of mile away, frontingon
the beach and the placid opal colored
stretch of water, is the fine old man
sion, revered by southern people, a
house that has been inspected and
written of and described beyond any
other house in the South, and that Is
constantly being visited by some dis.
tinguished person who has the good
taste to round off his world travels by a
trip to Louisiana.
We drove off through the woods gaily
enough, crossing a gray plank bridge
that lowered over pools of black water,
where some brown-coated country lad
dies we've patiently "layin' for an ALI
gator" and presently at the end OF a
lane came upon the gates that open the
way to Beauvoir house.
The outlook and the situation are
lovely. The sand along the broken
coast with its tiny capes and miniature
harbors is as white as salt and as
shining. Only here and there AIRED CHM
ney or the comb of gray roof can be
seen above the plumy tops of the young
pines, and as far as the eye can see this
same glorious growth of pines guard
the coast flock of gulls had settled
on long sharp ridge of yellow sand
that reaches far ont into the gulf like
The fin of some lazy fish Just showing
above the water.
The day seemed asleep in the sun
shine. Crows hung in the air, and
caWed and tapped their black wings.
The mockingbirds whistled in the trees,
and some voting lambs bleated in their
paddock, the voice Of the sea and the
voice of the pine both sounded faint
and far off. 1t seemed such perfect
day to make pilgrimage to the home
o; jefferson Davis, and Flo and | look
cd up curinusly at the big house, think
ing and talking about the winsome
young daughter, who turns with de-
light from all the happiness and com
pliments and gayeties OF the world, as
1t is found in cities, to spend her days
with her honored father and mother,
who have SO richly lowered her with
intellect and culture.
Reauvoir house looks to be just what
it is, the home of a quiet country gem
tleman, who would not exchanges its
roses and peace, its books and sunshine
and treasures, for the gayest Queen
Anne cottage that ever poked its par
rot like head and gaudy celors up
above its neighbors in town or city or
seaside village. The house is set
down in the centre of a great
yard that in city parlance would
comprise several squares of ground.
1t is a brown, sandy yard in which
the grass persistently declines to
grow, but where, instead, are hundreds
of magnolia, cedar, and oak trees, the
latter hung, as cave with stalactites,
with the draperies of Spanish moss. 1t
is a big white house with green shut
tiers that sets up in the air on pillars of
brick that has deep, cool galleries
reaching across the front and back,
great wide hall through the centre, and
double rooms on either side. There is
a wing on one side and behind this the
kitchen, trailing of, covered with
vines, and its sprawling pent roof hid
den by a snow of roses. On either
side the big house are detached cot
tages-Ittle green and white and gray
islands Of wood entirely surrounded by
galleries. In one of these, secure from
intrusion, Mr.. Davis wrote his history.
All about under the trees, but respect
fully retiring from the public view,
are comfortable Countrywide out-build-
ings, barns and tool-houses, a sheep
shed and o corn-bin, a carpenter-shop
for the performance of rainy-day farm
chores. Behind the house is a sweet,
old-fashioned fower-garden, and be-
yond that a smart kitchen-garden, with
its black soil and thirty rows OF bright !
green vegetables.
Beauvoir house is one OF those fine |
old houses set out with quaint and |
stately olden-timed furniture, rich in |
pictures and books and treasures that |
have been gathered from all parts of |
the world home that has grown mel |
low and beautiful with time, and which |
neither money nor desire can obtain.
Old-fashioned lounges and round di-
vans, and big rocking-chairs, and odd |
cabinets fill the wide hall. A grand |
fathers clock stands like carved oak |
coffin on end. and the brass face
looks out through the glass case upon
a life with which it has nothing more
to do. There are pictures on the Ia
bles and walls, and books and papers
everywhere. ATurkish curtain as we'll |
as folding doors separate the front par
Tor from the back. The last is lined |
from floor almost to the ceiling with |
book-shelves, and the over-profuse |
books overflow into every room
in the house. Rare paintings and por-
~. r